as though he's a lovelorn maiden
by AllTheHats
Summary: "So if I offer you my blessings for your incredibly messed up attempts at courting Onikiri, will you stop pining all over my mountains?" "I'm not pining," Yorimitsu says. Shuten just gives Yorimitsu a look of pure disbelief, gesturing at the vaguely soldier-shaped magic construct hovering around behind Yorimitsu's shoulder. "You literally named that thing Onikiri."


During a lull in the battle, Shuten takes a moment to address a very serious problem affecting troop morale.

"So if I offer you my blessings for your incredibly fucked up attempts at courting Onikiri, will you stop pining all over my mountains?"

"I'm not pining," Yorimitsu says.

It's a lie. It's a really obvious lie. He's absolutely pining. Shuten would know what that looks like — hell, he spends so much time doing it himself they should just change his title to King of Pining.

Shuten doesn't say any of that, though.

Instead, he just gives Yorimitsu a look of pure disbelief, gesturing at the vaguely soldier-shaped magic construct hovering around behind Yorimitsu's shoulder. "You literally named that fucking thing Onikiri." The real Onikiri had laughed himself silly when he'd seen it. It had been the _angriest _laughter Shuten had ever heard — so much so it was actually kind of impressive.

Yorimitsu doesn't reply. He just leaves. Just fucking runs, like a coward.

The instant it won't put his own men in jeopardy, Shuten is going to _choke his emotionally constipated ass to death._

* * *

"Why are you even trying to help him?" Momiji asks, when Shuten complains at her about it later.

"Because," Shuten starts, and then pauses. He very carefully weighs whether he wants to say what he's actually thinking, which is, _'the face he makes when he's watching Onikiri like a sad puppy is the same face Ibaraki makes when he's watching _me_, and it's the most pathetic thing I've ever seen.' _No, he decides. He doesn't really want to say that. "Just _because,_" he finishes, lamely.

She gives him a very knowing look. "I see," she says, "that you find white-haired men irresistible." Then, she hides her laughter in her sleeve, as is polite and proper. But she's not polite enough to simply not make fun of him. Gods, Shuten loves her.

"No," Shuten disagrees, mostly for argument's sake, "because then I'd be fighting _you _for Seimei."

She sniffs, delicately. "Oh no, Lord Seimei isn't at all your type — he's much too smart. You only like the particularly dumb ones."

"Damn," he deadpans, "you got me."

She laughs at him again. It really is a lovely sound.

* * *

Momiji is — tragically — not even incorrect, Shuten reflects. It's not that he _doesn't _like Ibaraki. The man just comes on way too strong. It is — Shuten thinks, as he watches the absolute mess that is Yorimitsu constantly following at _exactly _the right distance to interfere if Onikiri gets into trouble — the precise opposite of Yorimitsu's problem.

Ibaraki runs around shouting his love off the mountaintops. Yorimitsu is more the kind of person to sit at the window with sorrow in his heart and sighs on his lips, reflecting on the fragility of the cherry blossoms, as though he's a lovelorn maiden.

And Onikiri — god, he's just as stupid as the other two, Momiji was absolutely right about Shuten's tastes — is too angry and hostile to hear any of those heart-stricken sighs. If those two are ever to resolve anything, someone will have to do something about it — and that someone clearly won't be either of _them._

So, just like every other problem on these damn mountains, Shuten guesses this mess is now _his _to sort out. Yaaay, responsibility. His life was so much _nicer _when he was wandering around the countryside, pining after Momiji and pretending to be a drunken vagabond, damn it.

(_It was easier, _an internal voice suspiciously like Momiji's says, _but it wasn't _nicer.)

* * *

Of course, as much as Shuten would really like those two trash fires to stop radiating unresolved sexual tension all over the battlefield, he doesn't really like Yorimitsu. Would greatly enjoy shoving the man off a cliff, in fact. So he doesn't actually do anything about it.

Not, at least, until he overhears possibly the sappiest speech anyone has ever given. _Ever._

_"So long as man and blade are one, there will be no room in the heart for fear," _he repeats at a whisper, in complete and utter disbelief. "That was a confession," he mutters to himself. Then, to Ibaraki next to him, "Please tell me you heard that. That was a confession, wasn't it?"

"A very heartfelt one," Ibaraki nods, weirdly solemn. Probably because he's also the kind of person who would go around confessing his undying love in the middle of a war, the big dumb sap.

Shuten runs a hand down his face. He can't believe Yorimitsu just _said _all that. He's not sure if the fact Onikiri isn't around to hear — and that Yorimitsu definitely knows as much — makes it better, or much, _much _worse. "Those two need an _intervention,_" he laments.

Laments, because he's going to have to be the one to give said intervention, and it's a truly sad day when _Shuten Douji — _drunkard extraordinaire and King of Running From Responsibility — has to be the responsible one.

Ibaraki hesitates — obviously as unwilling to actually do an arguably good thing for Yorimitsu as Shuten is — but then murmurs, "I find I must agree, my friend."

Gods. At least Shuten won't have to do this dumbass thing alone, he guesses.

* * *

"Why," Ibaraki grumbles, "these arrangements? My friend, I do not trust that man to be alone with you."

Shuten rolls his eyes. "Yorimitsu isn't going to stab me yet — he still needs us to defend Heian-kyo. Relax."

"Even so," Ibaraki switches tactics, "why must I speak with Onikiri? Surely he would lend an ear more readily to you."

"Are you serious right now?" Shuten can't believe what he's hearing — but Ibaraki's blank look confirms he's serious. He's so stupid. So, _so _stupid. Momiji was _really right _about Shuten's terrible taste in men; this is such a tragedy. "You're talking to Onikiri," Shuten says, very slowly, "because he has a _massive crush on you, you moron._"

Ibaraki gapes stupidly. "I — surely you jest, my friend. How can you be certain?"

"Because he looks at you the way—" _the way you look at me_, Shuten almost says, but catches himself in time to correct it to, "—Yorimitsu looks at _him_."

"Hm. That _is _terribly convincing," Ibaraki admits, looking incredibly troubled. He mulls that new bit of information over for a bit, before finally continuing, "Then…I will do as you ask, my friend. Especially if Onikiri… If what you say is true, I must speak with him regardless. He must be aware I can never return his feelings."

"Yeah," Shuten says, very carefully not asking Ibaraki to elaborate on that last bit, "you do that."

* * *

"Just buy him a present, like a normal fucking person!" Shuten hounds at Yorimitsu's heels, "Write him a poem! Take him out to dinner!"

He's been doing this for what must be hours now. Yorimitsu just as doggedly ignores him, simply throwing himself further into the fray in a whirl of blood and metal, as if he might be able to lose Shuten if he finds a bit of battle violent enough. Unfortunately for him, Shuten is an _expert _at murdering things, thank you very much, and is utterly undeterred.

Shuten is about to go on, but he's interrupted by a _massive _burst of demonic power, somewhere to the south of their current location. It's heady and explosive, and _familiar. _It's the feel of Ibaraki's arm. Ibaraki's…right arm. The severed one, that follows Onikiri around like a duckling. That is _absolutely _never going to get less weird.

Yorimitsu obviously recognizes it too — and realizes who its current owner is — because his head snaps up like a bloodhound catching the scent, and he immediately abandons his current fight to go raring off in its direction, clearly terrified Onikiri is in trouble. Shuten actually has to step in and smash his demon gourd into a sea monster's face, to make sure Yorimitsu doesn't get eaten.

Doesn't the man have any self-control? Honestly, this is just _embarrassing._

* * *

Ibaraki must have fled immediately after whatever not-lovey-dovey conversation he had with Onikiri, because he's not there when Shuten and Yorimitsu arrive. For someone as mushy and sentimental as he is, Ibaraki is practically _allergic_ to any prolonged exposure to serious discussions about feelings.

Onikiri loses the forlorn look on his face as soon as Yorimitsu steps into view, going directly from 'lost puppy' to 'bloodthirsty wolf.'

_"Onmyoji," _he snarls, apparently not even on last-name basis with Yorimitsu anymore.

Yorimitsu, predictably, doesn't reply. He just stands there, like an idiot, staring deep into Onikiri's eyes.

Shuten absolutely cannot take this anymore. "_My preferred weapon is the blade," _he recites, and Yorimitsu pales, recognizing his own words immediately. Fast as a striking snake, apparently on pure reflex, Yorimitsu draws his sword and lunges at Shuten.

He doesn't manage even half the distance before Onikiri steps between them, catching Yorimitsu's sword between two of his own and knocking it out of the human's hands. Onikiri then tosses his _own _swords aside, and steps forward to fist his hands in Yorimitsu's lapels, pulling the human down until Onikiri is growling not inches from his face.

"_What, _exactly_" _Onikiri hisses, absolutely murderous, "do you think you're _doing_?" Yorimitsu doesn't reply — speechless as always, when confronted with the object of his affections — and it just makes Onikiri angrier. He laughs again — the same crazed, angry laughter from when he first saw the fake copy of himself — and shakes Yorimitsu a little. "Of course I should've expected you to turn on us! You've always been a _liar_! Always—"

"Bushido _is a road which leads to death!" _Shuten interrupts, loud enough to echo through the mountains a little,_ "On the battlefield, one must have the awareness to lay one's life in their blade's hands!"_

Shuten can tell the _exact _moment Onikiri realizes what this speech is about, and who must have originally given it, because the tips of his ears turn as red as Shuten's hair. Yorimitsu is just standing there with a thousand-yard-stare, like he craves the sweet embrace of death.

_"So long as man and blade are one," _Shuten repeats for the second time today, tone gone low and intimate in imitation, _"there will be no room in the heart for fear."_

Now Onikiri's ears are actually _redder _than Shuten's hair. Wow, Shuten didn't know skin could turn that color. All three of them just stand there, very awkwardly, for a long, long moment.

Finally, apparently unable to bear the silence, Yorimitsu opens his mouth to speak — but then, Onikiri _snarls, _and whatever Yorimitsu's response might've been, he doesn't get to say it. Because Onikiri takes Yorimitsu opening his mouth as the cue to pull Yorimitsu down by the grip he still has on the man's collar aaaaaand nope Shuten is not staying here for this.

His work here _decidedly _done, he promptly flees the scene, steadfastly ignoring the sound of increasingly sloppy makeouts behind him.

* * *

"Now that you've settled things between _those _two white-haired idiots," Momiji says, "perhaps it's time you settled things with your _own _white haired idiot, hm?"

"But how can I be in love with Ibaraki," Shuten says, eyes as wide as he can make them and one hand placed dramatically to his chest, "when I'm in love with _you, _my sweet?" She smacks him on the arm, but she's giggling while she does it, so Shuten considers it a victory.

"Really, though," she says, "why won't you accept his feelings?"

Shuten sighs, running a hand through his bangs. "Because he's not in love with _me._" Anyone else might've interrupted him here, incredulous — but Momiji has heard this rant before, and knows what's coming next._ "_He loves the person he thinks I am. Sometimes it feels like half the damn country does."

She could argue that he hasn't stopped being himself, just because he doesn't remember being that person anymore — but that's a tired old song, one they both know the lyrics to by heart. And it's not the one he needs to hear, right now. "But how," she questions instead, "will he learn who you _are_, rather than who you were, if you never spend time with him?"

"_Ugh," _he whines, leaning over to bury his face in her shoulder. "I _know. _But he's so…so _enthusiastic._ It's exhausting. It's _terrible. _I wish he'd wander off and never come back; just leave me to stew in peace."

"You don't mean that. Give him a _chance._"

"…I don't," he sighs into the fabric of her robes, because she's right as always. "And I'll try."

She hums, approving, and reaches up to pat his head. Then — because she understands who he is as a person — she pours him another drink.

He sits up to accept it, and, together, they watch the setting sun.

* * *

Bonus:

"So," Momiji questions cheerfully, "now that Yorimitsu is the probably-official lover slash hatefriend of someone who's yours, doesn't that make _Yorimitsu _yours?"

Shuten turns to look at her with a dawning look of absolute horror.

"You're right," he whispers. "Oh _no. _How will I shove Yorimitsu off a cliff now?"

"You shoved _Ibaraki _off a cliff last week."

"He's an _oni_, that wasn't shit, he was _fine! _Yorimitsu is a squishy human, he'd die!"

"And being beaten up by you is Ibaraki's kink anyway?"

"_Stop."_ She giggles behind her sleeve, the heartless witch.


End file.
